Yesterday's Dreams
by Spyridon
Summary: Sequel to Chasing Tomorrow: He was older now. The scars on his skin and bleeding wounds in his spirit haunted him just like the memories of dead eyes did in his dreams. Was there anything left in the world that would be able to wake him up from the nightmare he found himself in or would he just fade away like the countless other soldiers who suffered in silence? Full summary inside
1. Prologue

**Title:** Yesterday's Dreams  
**Status:** WIP Incomplete  
**Pairings:** Brian O'Conner/Mia Toretto, Dominic Toretto/Letty Ortiz  
**Additional Categories:** Alternate Universe,  
**Genre:** Action, Adventure, Angst, Comfort, Drama, Family, Hurt, Violence,  
**Season/Episodes:** Ten years after 'Chasing Tomorrow', prologue circa 2011  
**Rating:** Teen  
**Warnings:** Graphic Violence, Graphic Sexual Scenes, Graphic Language,  
**Spoilers:** N/A  
**Full Summary:** He was older now and no longer the young cop patrolling the streets of LA. The scars on his skin and bleeding wounds in his spirit haunted him just like the memories of exploding bombs and dead eyes did in his dreams. Was there anything left in the world that would be able to wake him up from the nightmare he found himself in or would he just fade away like the countless other soldiers who suffered in silence?  
**Series/Sequels:** Prequel: '_Chasing Tomorrow_'  
**Author's Notes:** This story totally went in a different direction than what I anticipated. Ah well. I least I got an ending to this story. It must be noted that the ending maybe somewhat controversial as it will the events in December 2012. It was the only way to 'wake up' Brian but you'll see why. Eventually.

* * *

_**Chapter One: Prologue**_

* * *

"_Look at an infantryman's eyes and you can tell how much war he has seen."  
~ William Henry_

* * *

The huge military transport plane came to complete stop on the airfield at Fort Campbell. The whirring hum of the four Allison turboprop engines of the C-130 Hercules faded away as the speed of the blades began to slow down, the individual whapping of the air becoming distinct in the cold Kentucky air. The solders on the flight began to chatter in low tones, a couple of them hollering to each other on what they planned to do now they were back home and safe for the time being. A few were going to hit the bars in search of women while few more were going to head back home to their awaiting families. Others were planning to get back to what they loved doing in their spare time but every single one of them was going to live their lives to the fullest.

Buckles were undone and personal effects were gathered in the ugly green Army duffel bags. The load master of the flight hit the button and with a whirring of machines, the large ramp at the end of the carrier began to lower itself onto the asphalt of the runway.

Once the metal ramp came to a rest on the surface, the soldiers began to disembark, stepping once more onto US soil, the land they had been fighting for half a world away. For some of them, it had been a year since they had seen the familiar sights of Fort Campbell. For others, however, it had been years since they had seen the rise of the army barracks and building that made up the large Army compound.

Staff Sergeant Shawn Ripley stopped at the top of the ramp, watching his ODA unit walk down the ramp, heading for HQ for their debriefing and eventually their temporary freedom until their next tour. He knew he would be heading home to see his wife Eloise who he had not seen in over year once he had been shipped back to Iraq or his three kids who were now growing fast. He could have sworn his youngest child, his only son, had been a rambunctious toddler who had been born the day before. It was one of the many sacrifices he had to make when he had chosen to become a soldier in the US Army fifteen years ago. He stopped himself from swallowing in self-pity. He was almost home and that was all that mattered.

His dark eyes fell on the weary form of one of his weapon sergeants, a young man from the West Coast who had joined the Army within weeks that had changed all of their lives. The man's body was motionless, his darkened blue eyes staring at the arc of the sky above them. Picking up his bag, Ripley walked to the younger man's side.

"Not what you expected?" He knew a number of the younger recruits thought they would be greeted by large crowds of people who would be welcoming the troops back home. That would be true for the normal soldiers but for the quiet professionals, they were ghosts among the normal Army soldiers, blending in their colleagues. Their passing went unnoticed in the larger scheme of things and they preferred it that way.

The sergeant turned around, the tired blue eyes locking with his own. "I don't know what I really expected."

"Hm," Ripley studied the soldier before him, the tone of the voice worrying him deeply. Unlike the voices of his men that were already halfway across, the sergeant's voice was monotone, lifeless. "It'll take a while to getting used to civilian life again. Are you sure you don't want to stay at my house? Eloise won't mind another mouth to feed or baby over." Ripley would be damn sure, however, that she would be mad at the fact that he didn't alert her that he would be bringing a guest over. She would curse him like a sailor as she would scurry around to set up their guest room.

"No, I have a lot of things to do before I head back West." Ripley noticed that he didn't say home, something that troubled him a bit. In fact, Ripley could swear on his mother's grave that he had never even used the home in conjunction with returning back to the US. The sergeant turned away, eying the horizon, the dark forms of the clouds rolling from the east. His breathe billowed out in small puffs of mist.

"If you're sure. Just remember to turn in your M4 and M9 in to the armory along with any other weapons the Army bought for you." As he said that, Ripley promised himself then that he would check on the man every so often to make sure that the sergeant didn't slip into the deep, dark depression that seemed to dog every soldier's step, waiting to drag them down under until they sunk so far, they had to end it with a bullet or drown themselves in alcohol. He knew the man before him had the potential to be one of those men who lost themselves as they had no support from family and friends, distancing themselves to the point they no longer felt part of the society they had sacrificed so much for. The sergeant hadn't signed up for another tour as he had already done four straight and could give no more. Ripley had the feeling his superiors had let him go due to the darkness surrounding the man, worried that he might turn on himself or on others, something the US Special Forces could not afford and had let him go.

The sergeant nodded in acknowledgement. Ripley clapped a hand on his shoulder and left, following the others. He only hoped that someone would be able to save the man from his own demons.

* * *

"_Yo, Brian, I got your message. The boys at the garage want to know if you're going to be stopping by to see them soon. Looks like you've become a legend around here and people keep on coming, asking about your punk ass, white boy. When you do come over, don't forget to bring some food."_

Brian listened to the audio message that he saved to his iTunes library as the airplane cruised through the sky, angling toward the Los Angeles International Airport. It had been over six years since he had last seen Roman Pearce, not since he had gone to Miami while on leave before he had reported for training at Camp Peary, not that Rome knew that last little bit. Rome had just about blown a gasket when Brian had been considering joining the FBI as a federal agent. He didn't think his friend would be enamored with the fact that Brian had joined another federal agency, one that actually dealt in truths, lies, and pretense on a daily basis. He allowed Rome and the others think that the Army required him to go through additional training.

Scrolling down the list of songs on his iPhone, Brian thought back over the last ten years of his life.

When he had left LA after the Toretto debacle, Brian thought the next part of his life would see him as a Federal Agent under the jurisdiction of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It was his every intention to take up Bilkins' offer of supporting him through the Academy at Quantico, Virginia but following the Miami case, he no longer wanted to join the FBI after seeing the tight noose they kept around their agents' necks. Despite the initial reaction of Tej Parker and his friends after they found out that he had been an FBI informant, they had allowed him and Rome to work at the garage to earn a living once the undercover mission was over. It wasn't home but he had a roof over his head and food on the table. Over time, Tej, Suki, and the others had become his friends.

Brian shut down the iPhone and slid back into his pocket, watching the wing of the airplane cut through the slipstream as the flight attendants began preparing the fliers for the final descent.

Weeks later all that changed, along with the lives of the other 300 million Americans, young and old, as they watched the horrifying tragedy of September 11th unfold on television. Even now, Brian could not forget the scenes of smoke billowing from the broken windows, burnt paper flying in the open air, the shocked and ashy faces of New Yorkers fleeing the city on the foot into the surrounding boroughs. Rome who was normally buoyant was silent, solemn as the first tower began to collapse in on itself, sending thousands of tons of cement and steel into the street below, burying an untold number of firefighters, policemen, and civilians in a public grave for the world to see and which would slowly be unburied over the following months as the government tried to recover the bodies. Even Suki, tough as she was, had cried as the news stations had showed parents, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, and friends searching for any news of their loved ones and their emotions once they learned they had never made it out of the burning towers alive.

In the following days, he saw as America quickly mobilized itself for a war in the Middle East. The police on the streets were tense, always constantly on the watch, wondering if that person was carrying a bomb. Talk grew in the streets as soldiers in the Navy, Marines, Army, and Air Force began to say good bye to their family and friends, knowing they would be called upon. Brian watched as they listened to the call and headed off to unknown futures, not knowing if they would die in the sands of a land faraway.

Through the haze of questions that asked what America did to deserve such horrors, Brian could hear the call of duty beckoning him once more. The same call that he heard when his mother had died while he had been in juvie, beaten to death by her boyfriend at the time. The itch that had found him racing on the streets was replaced by the fire of patriotic duty that he couldn't deny.

Three weeks after the events in New York and Pennsylvania, Brian found himself signing up for the United States Army. By December, he found himself being shipped to Fort Benning, Georgia to report for Basic Training.

From the small window, Los Angeles looked the same; the grey skyscrapers reaching into the blue sky, the glittering ocean reaching into the west. To former Sergeant Brian O'Conner, it felt untouched by the ravages of war half a world away. None of the inhabitants had to wonder if they would die the next day while trying to find food for their starving families. The girls did not have to wonder if they would be killed for attending a one room class that passed for a school. The boys would not have to wonder if they'd be forced into joining deranged motherfuckers that were intent on spreading their jihad across the world.

The wheels of the plane touched down, jolting him from his morbid thoughts.

The cabin was noisy as the civilians disembarked section by section along with the military personnel. He waited until his section was fully empty before leaving his seat in the secluded corner. He pulled his rucksack from the overhead compartment, slinging it across his shoulders. As he entered the terminal, he saw the other returning soldiers being greeted by their families, signs welcoming them home, wives crying after seeing their husbands after so many months, children hugging their sorely missed parents, gripping tightly at their necks.

He turned away, heading for the exit, knowing that no one would be there.

"Brian."

Immediately, Brian tensed, his hand instinctively dropping to where his absent M-4 would have been. Standing before him, leaning against a column, a man was gazing at him steadily. "Tanner." His drill sergeant at Fort Bragg would have buried his ass in an unmarked grave had he known that Brian had not recognized the threat the moment he had entered the terminal. In Iraq, it would have meant the death of him and potentially the rest of his ODA.

"You've looked better." Brian knew that was true. Fighting in Iraq for close to seven years had taken its toll. When he had left the Los Angeles Police Department way back when life had been good, he weighed a healthy 190 pounds, tanned from surfboarding in the surf of the Pacific Ocean and fit from his daily exercise routine but the days out in the unforgiving desert, monitoring the movement of the enemy forces and living on the local sheep, had seen him dropping in weight until he was toeing 160 at times. The hollowness of his cheeks was accented by the beard he was still sporting, his hair cropped close to his skull and dark.

"What are you doing here, Tanner?" The older officer raised an eyebrow at the question Brian posed; in his time at the LAPD, Brian had never been this blunt and if he was, he was a spitfire, fiery and alive.

"I got a call from Townsend in Personnel. He saw your application to the Academy for retraining. Wanted to know more about why you left the first time. He heard some persistent rumors."

Brian showed none of the expected fire-spitting he would have done ten years ago. Instead, there was no outside change at all; no tightening of the lips, narrowing of the eyes, _nothing_. "If you're going to tell me that I've been denied, a phone call would have been just fine."

"Actually, Brian, you've been accepted for the next class. Your commanding officer gave a glowing report of your service in Iraq. They decided to give you another chance." Tanner motioned toward the doors. "Come on, I'll give you a ride."

Brian hesitated, eying the older man as his mind went through the benefits and the risks just as he had been trained to do at Fort Bragg. He remembered how the officer had helped him navigate the department and bureaucratic bullshit that centered on and around current police procedures. It was also the same man that had recommended him for the Toretto operation and didn't step in to protect him when his neck had been placed on the chopping block when it went to fucking hell. There was no reason for him to burn bridges now even before he stepped foot into the academy.

He followed Tanner out of the terminal and across the parking lot, his eyes continuously scanning the crowd for potential threats; so many places for the enemy to hide, so many areas that could conceal a bomb. Yet, there was no threat here. This was America, the same yet different country with its own set of problems, its own dangers. How his fingers itched for his M4.

Tanner neared a black SUV, not the Caprice that Brian expected. "I'm a captain now at the department. Did you think that I would stay a sergeant forever?" Brian chose not to reply, deciding instead to place his sack in the back. As Tanner started the SUV, he glanced over at Brian. "So, where to, O'Conner?"

Brian recited the address of the apartment he had rented, not needing to glance at the piece of paper he had scribbled the address on just in case. Special Forces training had drilled into his head that everything had to be memorized in the first reading, to recall every single letter in case the smallest detail was needed.

Tanner guided the SUV onto the highway, the silence tense.

"Are there reservations about me joining?" Brian asked, staring the window to study the cars passing by. He wondered if the old superiors were still around. He remembered Tanner's words from before, of how his chances of getting promoted where slim to none.

"There are some officers who were there that do remember you at Rampart but most have forgotten or don't care. Most likely, you will be assigned to another division. As for Ramirez and the others, they were sacked after the investigation into the Rampart Scandal was completed. The department just barely came off federal oversight." Tanner paused for a moment. "Once you graduate the academy, you'll have to go through the probation like everyone else so your FTO can make sure you haven't lost any of your skills. Unlike the other graduates, however, you'll be able to get your old pay grade back which means you don't have to wait as long for the promotion to POIII."

Brian didn't say anything as the streets swept by. He could see the subtle differences in the look of the city. It was still grimy in some places but the small details were different. A store had closed down here and there, replaced by something new.

"Once you sign in, you might want to check out the Military Liaison Program. It was started back in 2003 after you left to help the war veterans before, during, and after their deployments reintegrate back into the department. You might to take advantage of what they can offer." Tanner mentioned after the silence had gone for a couple of minutes. They had turned into the neighborhood where Brian was now living.

"I don't need to see a shrink." Brian answered automatically, not turning his head to look at Tanner who glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

Tanner pulled the SUV over and stopped, turning around to face the younger man. "Admit it, Brian. Since you've left the LAPD back in 2001, you've changed and I don't know if it was for the better." He had seen the new updates on Brian's profile. When he had left the LAPD in 2001, he had been the best shooter of his class. Now after ten years in the Army and seven in Special Forces, Brian was an highly trained SF sniper and other skills that were too numerous for him to remember.

Brian looked at Tanner, locking eyes with him. "If you have any reservations about me coming back on the force, you might as well call Townsend." The voice was hard, daring Tanner to pick up his phone to call Personnel.

The tension between them was thick. "I'll see you at the academy, Brian." Tanner finally said, unlocking the doors. The former soldier didn't even reply as he collected his things and left, disappearing into the apartment office. Tanner stared after him, his mind buzzing with the changed man he had seen.

The eyes that had stared back at him were lifeless, cold, and uncaring. The look had chilled him to the bone as they were completely opposite of the lively young man that walked into the Rampart police station thirteen years ago, brimming with the determination to prove himself to his superiors. This man, this broken soldier, was uncaring of himself and the world around him.

Someone like that on the force was a danger to his fellow officers and the civilians that they were sworn to protect to the best of their abilities.

Tanner pulled the SUV onto the streets, heading back to the precinct, his mind going through different choices and outcomes. Ten years ago, when it had come down to it, Tanner had turned his back on Brian, something that had weighed heavily on his conscience ever since. From the moment Tanner had taken the young officer under his wing, he had seen him as a surrogate son as his own flesh and blood was estranged from him due to his lifestyle. When the Toretto case had blown up, he had the thought to teach Brian a lesson by allowing him to get punished by the chief of police.

The outcome from the decision had only served to separate them further until it was evident that it had isolated Brian completely, not only from Tanner but also from his peers. Being out in the streets was dangerous and made even more so when your colleagues refused to back you up, even if you asked for it. He had thought a fresh start with Bilkins and the FBI would have allowed Brian to move on. A few weeks later, he had called Bilkins under the pretense of tying up a few loose ends on the Toretto case and learned to his shock that Brian had joined the Army instead. Seeing Brian now made Tanner wonder if it was too late to help him.

A thought wormed itself way into Tanner's head and took up residence.

Maybe there was someone or rather a family who would be able to work their way past the defenses Brian had erected, a family who had already done so despite Brian's attempts to stop it. Maybe it would bring back the fire Brian had carried within him.

In Tanner's mind, it was worth the risk. He made a note to look up their files to see if they still lived in the same house.

* * *

"_Leadership is solving problems. The day soldiers stop bringing you problems is the day you have stopped leading them. They have either lost confidence that you can help or concluded you do not care. Either case is a failure of leadership."  
~ General Colin Powell, former Secretary of State  
_


	2. The Soldier's Creed

**Rating:** Teen  
**Warnings:** Mild Violence, Language,  
**Author's Notes:** Here's the appearance of Asshole!Brian. I think I will show Brian's POV next chapter. There are a couple of foreshadows in this chapter and a revelation aka plot twist at the end. Brian's personal history has been changed to coincide with some new information I found. CT has been reedited to reflect this.  
187: Murder  
245: Assault with a deadly weapon other than a firearm.  
246: Assault with a firearm  
415: Domestic dispute  
Code 2: Non-emergency response, but important; must follow traffic laws.  
Code 3: Life-threat response; use of lights and siren required;  
Code 4: All clear; situation under control  
Code 6: unit has arrived to location, officers investigating  
DB: dead body

* * *

_**Chapter Two: The Soldier's Creed**_

* * *

_The curse of his powers tormented his life  
Obeying the crown was a sinister price  
His soul was tortured by love and by pain  
He surely would flee but the oath made him stay  
He's torn between his honor and the true love of his life  
He prayed for both was denied_

~ **Within Temptation**,  
"_Hand of Sorrow_" from '**The Heart of Everything**'

* * *

~_ Los Angeles, USA: January 2012_ ~

"2-A-219, we have a 4-15 at 1015 North Edgemont Street. Wife has reported her husband has been fighting with her for the past 20 minutes." The cool and calm voice of the dispatcher came over the radio. "Code 2. Incident 4393." Police Officer III Wesley Eames glanced down at the computer, noting one unit was closer to the call and were already turning to head to the address on the screen.

"Let's back them up. Code 2." Eames told his partner, Police Officer II Brian O'Conner. The man had finished going through retraining and was now back out on patrol after getting picked up by the Rampart division. Except for a couple of incidents where the man had fallen back on his military training, O'Conner had taken up the routine of being a cop again easily. Slowly, the signs that screamed military faded but were still present. The crew cut O'Conner had worn on arrival had grown out just enough for the ends to begin turning lighter in the Los Angeles sun.

"No sirens." O'Conner acknowledged, pulling the cruiser onto the left lane to do a legal U-turn. Eames rolled his tongue in mouth, reminding himself that O'Conner no longer needed to be tested on his knowledge of LAPD procedure. O'Conner remembered the codes and knew that all Code 2 calls were non-emergency, with no sirens and obedience of all traffic laws but still make their way to the calls without delay. "That's the same house White and Rutherford got last week."

Eames keyed the radio. "2-X-Ray-2-19, we're going to be Code 6 on the 4-15." Turning to his partner, Eames remembered the call. "Didn't they mention they had a couple of kids?"

O'Conner nodded in the affirmative as the dispatcher responded over the radio. "Roger X2-19. Code 6 on the 4-15."

"Does the house have a history of getting calls like this? Two times in about a week?" Eames said as they stopped at a red light. "You would think they would get a divorce so the kids won't have to see this."

"Unfortunately, most don't see the damage they're doing to the kids."

"The situation at 1015 North Edgemont Street has been upgraded to 2-45. Husband has now pulled out a gun. Code 3." O'Conner didn't even wait, turning on the sirens and lights and honking as the truck in front of him didn't immediately respond to the emergency lights. Eames grabbed at the handle bar on the roof as O'Conner pulled the cruiser to the left, driving over the low cement median once the truck had pulled forward enough.

"Oh, shit, doesn't look like they're fighting over bills anymore." Eames lurched out to grab the radio again. "2X2-19, Code 6 on the 2-45."

"2X2-19, roger." There was a beat of silence before the RTO came back. "4-25 has become 4-26, possible 187. Dispatcher has reported they are no longer in touch with the wife."

"Shit." Eames cursed under his breath. "Why do all the crazies come out on the full moon?" He picked up the radio. "Status on 2-Adam-2-19?"

"2A2-19 is now a Code 6 at the location. No sign of suspect or the wife."

The cruiser spun onto the street from Santa Monica Boulevard, a black and white already parked diagonally across the driveway, lights still on. Their cruiser came to a stop in front of the lawn, blocking access to the road. "Stay with me, O'Conner."

"I got the left." O'Conner confirmed as they both got out of the cruiser, weapons drawn and safeties flicked off. As silently as they could, they crept up to the front porch. A neighbor looked over the fence, taking photos with their iPhone.

"Get back before you get shot." Eames hissed, motioning the civilian to get down. They took up position on either side of the door, guns pointing down. The door was open partially, concealing the entryway. "We're at the house at the front."

Ramirez came on the radio. "We're inside. Be careful when coming in."

"10-4." Eames took the lead, reaching out with his left hand to push the front door open. The coast clear, he entered the door first, keeping the gun at the shoulder as he made his way through the living room. Behind him, O'Conner brought up the rear. At the hallway, they caught sight of Ramirez and Gomez gathered at the foot of the stairwell. Behind them, painted on the wall, were trails of wet blood. O'Conner walked up to it, noting the blood had begun to congeal around the edges.

"No sign of the suspect when we got here. We checked the entire ground floor. Either he is up stairs or he's already gone by now." Ramirez said quietly, noticing where O'Conner's attention was.

"Have you called out for the wife?" Eames asked, his gut sinking even before Ramirez answered.

"No. She's still unaccounted for but Gomez found that blood started in the kitchen; looks like she stumbled upstairs." His face was grim, all of them knowing she was probably dead.

Gomez shifted his stance. "We need to check the status of the kids. We don't know if he's injured them already." All of them nodded in affirmation, easing into their positions.

As the lead officers on the call, Eames waited for Ramirez and Gomez to begin their ascent up the narrow stairway. Below him, O'Conner kept an eye below them in case the suspect was still on the ground floor. Stepping on to the second floor landing, Eames saw the hallways, five open doors, three on the right, and two on the left. Gomez and Ramirez took the right while Eames and O'Conner took the left. The first door on the right was a pantry followed by the master bedroom. It and the master bathroom came up empty. Eames and O'Conner rejoined the other two as they came out of what was the first of the bedrooms.

A sound from the next door has them tensing, their eyes focused on the open door frame.

Ramirez angled himself three feet from the door, clearing the room past the open door as he walked closer. He was only at the door jamb when he caught sight of the suspect. He threw himself backward, slamming into Gomez and sending them both to the floor as shotgun blasts tore through the door frame, spraying the hallway with splinters. Eames and O'Conner grabbed the belts of their colleagues and hauled them back to the landing. Over the din, they could hear the children crying out even louder in fear.

"Motherfucker." Ramirez cursed as he rolled free from Gomez and got to his feet.

"Were the kids in there?" Eames asked as he shrunk back from another blast of gun fire.

"No. It looks like they're in the last room over there. I caught a glimpse of them before he started shooting." Ramirez answered.

"This nut may have more weapons at his disposal." O'Conner stated, the muscles in his arms twitching. Eames' eyes narrowed but diverted his attention. Now was not the time to bring up his partner's reaction to the shooting.

"Surrender your weapons." Ramirez started to speak out loud, addressing the suspect, but another blast tore through the wall.

"I guess that answers that question." Gomez stated his face grim at the possible outcomes.

"I'm worried about the kids." Eames said, looking out across the hall. He had a couple of kids himself and the sounds he was hearing was tugging at his heart. "I'm going to try to get across."

Ramirez grabbed him by the vest. "What? No, he could shoot you if you try to cross. I can't let you do that."

"I have to do this." Eames said, staring resolutely at Ramirez.

Seconds past between them though it felt like more. "Fine, fine, I just don't want to bury you."

"I'll go with you." O'Conner said, eyeing the door frame. "What I wouldn't give for covering fire from a machine gun right now."

"We don't have clear line of the suspect." Gomez started.

"Yeah, I know. Wouldn't stand up in court." O'Conner and Eames lined up in the hallway, waiting for the moment. Seconds ticked on by. "Let's do this."

Once more the shotgun went off, the five shots quickly expended, the sounds of the reloading audible in the dead silence of the house. Eames and O'Conner bolted as the suspect began loading new cartridges into the shotgun. The open door flashed by, the suspect dropping the half-loaded shotgun and reaching for the assault rifle next to him, bullets streaking behind them. Eames slid to a stop, eyes immediately falling on the three children huddling in the farthest corner of the door, behind the bed. The biggest one was the closest, the small boy using his body to protect his younger siblings. Both Eames and O'Conner threw themselves onto the children as the bullets continued to spray through the walls.

"Make it stop!" The boy screamed his eyes wide with fear.

"It's going to be okay." Eames said, visibly checking them for injuries. They seemed unharmed but he could tell all three of them were gripped by the fear.

"This is 2X2-19, we're with the children." O'Conner said into his radio. "Have CPS on standby to receive children."

"Roger, 2X2-19."

"Kids, do you know if your dad has any other weapon in the house?" O'Conner tried to ask them about their dad.

"N-no."

"The fucking bitch deserved it!" The suspect started to yell. "Thinking she could cheat on me with that lying son of a bitch. She thought I was stupid! She was the stupid one!"

"Sir, you need to turn yourself in."

"2-Adam-2-19, requesting a negotiator and watch supervisors on scene." They heard Gomez address the RTO on call as Ramirez tried to calm the suspect down and surrender peacefully.

Within ten minutes, the crisis negotiator was on scene, trying to talk with the suspect after being briefed by Gomez and Ramirez. Other officers began to secure the scene, rolling out the crime scene tape to prevent others from drifting nearer to the house. While the negotiator tried to defuse the situation, the watch supervisor discussed options on removing the children from harm's way with other unit leaders. The S.W.A.T. team arrived, dressed to the nines in combat gear. One plan was to use a fire ladder from one of the responding engine to remove the children through the windows and down but that was quickly shot down as being too risky. The only window they would be able to remove the children through was facing the same side as the suspect's window. They couldn't risk him shooting the children through the walls.

For the next half an hour, they tried to get the man to surrender. It finally came to a head when the suspect decided it would be best to kill his wife's bastard children.

Luckily, O'Conner and the other officers were waiting just inside the door when he made his charge.

The armed man burst through the door into the hallway, his eyes crazed and bloodshot. The semi-automatic rifle he was carrying started to spray the area, the bullets slamming into the wood. Ramirez, Gomez, and O'Conner didn't hesitate, pulling their trigger fingers, the bullets tearing into the man's chest as Eames made sure to cover the children with his own body. The magazines emptied halfway, the slider snapping back into place, the last spent cartridge falling onto the ground as the man fell to the ground, audibly gurgling with blood squirting from a nicked artery. Without stopping, the three officers ejected the magazine and sliding in a new one.

"Is everyone all right?" Eames asked, trying to calm down the scared kids who were even more freaked out due to the sounds of the guns. "Sh, it's okay. It's okay."

"We're okay. He wasn't aiming that rifle real good." Ramirez shouted, stepping forward to disarm the dying man. Using his leg, he kicked the rifle free, the weapon sliding a couple of feet away. To the average citizen, it seemed inhumane to treat such an individual but there was no telling if he would still try to kill someone even as the blood was pouring from him.

"We are a Code 4. X8, we need an RA. Suspect has been disarmed and in need of medical attention." Gomez said into his radio.

"Roger, RA is in route." Not a second later, they could hear the EMTs enter the house, storming up the stairwell. The two paramedics circled the dying man, instantly assessing him. One of them began in IV line, the other moving to try and stem the bleeding.

Gomez entered the room, his gun still in hand. Sweeping the room, he saw nothing until he got to the other side. The gun lowered as he took in the still body of the mother, blood seeping from underneath. The back of her head had been blown away. There was no point as they could do nothing for her now other than to take care of her kids.

"Motherfucker." Gomez exhaled, holstering his weapon. Sometimes, life just wasn't fair. "We have a DB; going to need a body bag for that one." Gomez said as he walked from the room. The medics were prepping the now unconscious man for transport to the stretcher.

"The wife?" Ramirez asked, seeing Go. The medics lifted the man and carried him down to the floor and out to the waiting ambulance. From inside the house, they heard the sirens start up, the response unit speeding away.

"Yeah, chased her up here and killed her from behind."

Inside the bedroom, O'Conner and Eames were tending to the kids. If they were scared now, they were now hysterical and from the looks of it, about to go into shock. "O'Conner, help me calm the kids down." Eames asked, feeling stressed of trying to deal with the three kids.

O'Conner didn't say anything, immediately drawing his knife and cutting the bonds the man had tied around the small children. They cried harder at the sight of the small weapon, fearing it even as it freed them.

"What the hell, man? Can't you see that they're scared?" Eames hissed, trying to rein his temper at the treatment of the children. He rested a hand on the young girl's face so she wasn't staring at the knife with her big brown eyes, her pupils blown in hear. "It's okay. He's not going to hurt you. He's only cutting the sheets off. You'll be fine. Everything's going to be fine." He crooned as he rubbed her cheek.

O'Conner's quick and efficient skill with the blade made short work of the improvised bonds, the children freed from the duct tape and the ripped sheets in less than a minute, thankfully. He slid the knife back into his belt, removing the tape from the children. Eames' nose flared as O'Conner's rough movements did nothing to ease the child's fears. There were times like this when Eames wondered why the captain had allowed the man back into the department.

A couple of firefighters came in carrying blankets to cover the children with. Eames took the oldest while the firefighters took the others. The blankets were adjusted to cover the children's faces as they walked through the bloodied hallway. CPS was outside, waiting for the children to emerge from the house. The second ambulance was there, waiting for orders to check on the children to make sure they weren't hurt from the ordeal.

It took an hour but finally Eames and O'Conner were released from the scene and on their way back to the precinct to file their report. Eames kept a hold of his temper until they were out of photo shot of the scene and well away from the eyes of the reporters and media.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Eames asked harshly. "Those kids were scared enough and you didn't care? Couldn't you tell that little girl was scared of the knife in her face just moment after we shot her dad?"

"I was only trying to free her, unless you wanted me to leave her like that for the CPS?"

"God damn it, O'Conner. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the lack of compassion in dealing with humans. You know, Homo sapiens, the species that you're supposedly part of?" Eames said sarcastically. "You can't go around treating people like that. They're not as cold and heartless as you."

"I beg to differ."

Eames wanted to strangle him. "Iraq is different from here. This is Los Angeles. I'm not saying that everyone here is all about hugs and kissed but Jesus fucking Christ man. You don't have to be such a cold bastard."

"Duly noted." O'Conner continued to drive the cruiser back.

Eames heaved a large sigh, wondering how he would bring this up to his Watch Commander. O'Conner needed to reconnect back with the world otherwise someone was going to pay dearly. He just hoped it wasn't him.

* * *

~_ LAPD Rampart Divisional Office, Los Angeles, USA: January 2012_ ~

Tanner looked up from where he was going over the most recent budget for the division to see his long-time friend and former partner, Mark Turner, standing at the door to his office. "Mark, it's good to see you. Why don't you take a seat?" He motioned toward the chairs in front of his desk while he closed the file.

"Nick." The watch commander was tall, stocky, his dark hair cropped close. The man had been an officer in the Marines before retiring and joining the police at 33 years old. He had only been a rookie when Nick had been a FTO. In fact, Mark had been Nick's last probie before being promoted to supervisor. Mark closed the door before taking a seat. Mark was one of those fortunate officers who had been able to maintain a loving and enduring relationship with his wife. Tanner's own life had left him after seven years of marriage, taking their 3 year old son with her.

The look on Mark's face told Tanner everything; he knew he wasn't going to bed so easily tonight. "I have a feeling that this isn't a social visit."

"No, it isn't. Eames came up to me with a complaint regarding O'Conner; a couple of things that have him concerned."

Tanner sighed, leaning back in his chair as he rubbed at his face. "What's Eames concerned about?"

"You heard of the shooting on the North Edgemont, right?"

"Yeah, husband killed his wife before charging the officers." He didn't mention that the man had been DOA to the hospital. The officers going out in the field were reminded that a justified killing in the line of duty was still murder and not to be taken lightly. Just like any other captain, Tanner would defend those officers who forced to fire to protect themselves but he would throw them under the bus if it wasn't justified, then he'd let the hounds of hell go after them.

"One of the officers on the scene was O'Conner. Eames said he was fine until they went to free the kids from the tape the husband had tied them with. He said O'Conner didn't even attempt to calm them down. He just went to free them like some mindless robot."

Shit. "Well, do you want them to be tied up?"

Mark just gave him a look. "Nick, you and me both know that's not the issue. It was the fact that he didn't even take into consideration of the children's emotional state. A normal officer would have tried to calm them down before even drawing the knife." Mark leaned forward. "You know indifference officers can be dangerous to our line of work, especially if they can't connect with the people they're trying to protect."

"He's not indifferent. You don't remember him from before." Nick said, getting up to pace behind his desk. Inside, he knew Mark was right but he didn't want to face the fact that Brian had changed so much since he had walked out of the precinct over almost eleven years ago. The Brian he knew would never had done such a thing. Sure, Brian wasn't interested in the ideas of kids but he would never abuse one in such a way, not after the life he had when he was growing up. To him, children were something to protect at all costs.

"O'Conner's not the same man he was before he joined the Army. You can't deny that the war's changed him. His arm twitches to the point even I noticed it."

Tanner didn't say anything as he stopped, glaring out the window. In the glare of the sun, Tanner could see the Brian that had gone undercover, the short blonde strands growing they flopped into his eyes. He remembered the first time Brian had driven the Eclipse, getting a feel for the supped up car. The younger man had definitely looked as if Christmas had come early as he put the car through its paces. Back then, Tanner had prided himself on finding the right officer for the job.

Now, Tanner believed he never should had nominated Brian for it.

Yes, Brian had definitely changed since Tanner had last seen him. The young officer had been easygoing with the other officers, compassionate to those who sent the call for emergency services, polite to those who ranted and raved. But underneath the exterior of the model cop, though, Brian always had this wall of ice that surrounded the deepest part of his heart, a thick layer that was so cool it actually burned those who got too close to him. Yet when the situation called for it, those walls came down, allowing people close to him to get through, especially victims that needed that understanding, that compassion.

Now, however, it seemed those unforgiving cold walls seemed to be permanently erected, driving everyone around Brian away from him. He knew Brian prided himself on being able to keep his cool during emergency situations but this new cold version of him had Nick wondering if he was still cut out for this job.

"He needs to go and see a shrink."

"How many officers do you think actually go to see one?"

"You could make it mandatory."

"That's not going to work with him. He'll just pull his undercover skills and lie through his teeth to get the shrink to sign off on the papers." Nick stated, almost seeing the Brian that would appear. His personality would shift, that smile Brian always had would come out. It would be fake but to someone who had never seen Brian would mistake it for the real thing. They would fall into his hand, being lured astray by his natural looks.

No, he needed someone who could cut through that bullshit, someone who could call him out without fear of consequences. He needed someone who could reawaken the real Brian from the darkness he found himself in.

"He can't go on like this. Something's going to have to break soon and it wouldn't be good if he broke out there on the streets. With his skills, he would not only be a danger to the civilians on the street but to the other officers."

Tanner grimaced at the image of a rogue Brian. It would be any LEO's worst nightmare come true; ex-Special Forces member, trained in steal and concealment and could handle any weapon he could lay his hands on. It was the stuff primed for the mercenary life, especially with his marksmen skills. Having that loose on the streets of LA, wearing the LAPD uniform, yeah, Tanner knew why Mark was pushing him to do something.

"I'll do something about it. Keep an eye on him. He's on desk duty for the next couple of weeks?"

"Considering it was a good shooting, it might more be a week just to go through the proper channels but yeah, I can watch him. Should I still have Eames partnered up with him?"

"Yes, it's obvious the officer will do the right thing, even if it means kicking Brian out of the force. Plus, he's been Brian's partner the longest since he left the academy."

Mark nodded, getting up. "I'm sorry to have to do this, Nick, as I know how much he means to you but having O'Conner the way he is makes me uncomfortable."

"I know. I guess I just needed a kick in pants to pull my head out of the blinds I had on." Mark waved his goodbye before leaving back to his wife.

Taking a seat behind his desk, Tanner looked at the paperwork. On impulse, he swiveled his chair to the computer and pulled up the profile on the man Tanner never thought he would talk to out of his own free will, much less for help for one of his officers. Swallowing his pride as a detective and a leader, Tanner quickly jotted down the address he saw in black and white.

* * *

~ _Fort Benning, Columbus, Georgia, USA: December_ _2001 _~

The air was mildly humid, clouds crowding the horizon as the forecast was set for mild rain. It was barely six in the morning or 0600 in military time. The sun was still under the horizon but its light was already illuminating the bellies of the low clouds, swirls of pink, orange, yellow, and purple coloring the cloud cover while the dark grey bodies above blended into retreating night sky. Underneath them, the sprawling faces of the mountains reared up, large stretches of trees covering their flanks.

As the bus made its way to the sprawling military compound, Brian wondered if he was doing the right thing. It had only been nine months since the failed LAPD operation, five months since the Miami operation, and three since September 11th. He had signed up for Army training just a few weeks ago and now he was on his way to basic training at Fort Benning.

Rome had tried to talk him out of it, stating he had already done his duty when he was on the police force, that he didn't owe them shit. Brian had tried to explain to him that he hadn't fulfilled his duty due to how it ended, that he was forced to leave and walk away because of his inability to uphold his oath to protect and serve. Yes, it was on his terms but the choices were either he stay and stagnate there or leave and start a new life. Rome just shrugged and said to let others fight the wars, let others die in faraway lands.

No, his friend just didn't get it.

Tej, Suki, and the others had just kept out of it, said it was up to him.

Sighing, he let his eyes roam the bus, eying the other members of the new class of recruits. Just in his group alone, there were individuals from all walks of life represented there.

A former La Eme member sat in front of him, a pink and white scar stretching across his neck, remnants of a gang tattoo. Behind him, kids barely 18 years old and fresh out of high school talked as quietly as they could, their frayed nerves noticeable in their voices. In the back seats, a couple more were street educated, raised on the gritty streets of New York and Chicago. Sitting in the front row, a star quarterback from Houston, Texas sat quietly as he read the manual they had given out, having denied scholarships from UCLA, Duke, and TCU to join the military. Next to him, an Eskimo descendent sat, staring at the road in front of them, a worn piece of leather in his hands. A surfer from Hawai'i, a computer nerd from Oregon, and a couple of hillbillies from deep within the Appalachians sat next to a couple of rich kids from Boston and Park Place. There were more in the Greyhound bus, their pasts just as diversified as the ones Brian saw.

The class represented what America hoped to be; a place where individuals of varying origins could come together and unite under a single banner. Here at Fort Benning, they would be stripped of their differences and molded into a single fighting unit that would join one of the greatest military armies of modern times.

A number of them, Brian thought grimly, would never return from their tours. He turned back to the window, watching as the trees flashed on by.

The buses carrying the new Army recruits thundered past the sign welcoming them to the military installation, pulling up to the building. The cargo doors were pulled open at the bottom of the bus, none of the drivers helping to remove the bags. Drill sergeant immediately got onto them, herding them into the building to begin their first day.

"Get your butts off the bus, now, ladies! Get your freaking bag and move! I don't have all freaking day to mommy you!" The drill sergeant yelled at them.

Once they were inside the presentation room, Brian listened as they continued to spit out orders. "Put your iPods, cell phones, and anything else away. Tuck in your shirts into your pants. I won't be having sloppy men in my Army. Throw all of your food items away." The class scrambled to obey, the man next to Brian grabbing his juice and water and chucking them into the garbage bin at the front of the room.

"You will address me as Drill Sergeant, not Drill Sergeant Sir, not sir Drill Sergeant, not even sir. Do you understand me?" The imposing man shouted as he walked in front of them.

"YES, DRILL SERGEANT!" The class shouted as one. After the presentation speech, they were herded to where other soldiers were waiting for them, boxes of new gear waiting to be handed to the recruits. As Brian lined up, the Drill Sergeant walked by, bumping shoulders with him. At first, Brian shrugged it off but over the course of the day, he noticed their proctors were singling him out for rough treatment.

Had they been ordered to test him due to his history?

Soon, the military had his fingerprints on record, his official military photo taken, his new military ID card issued, and having his new combat boots tested for fitness. Then they were taken to the barbers, Brian's sun-kissed golden locks joining the other clumps of hair littering the floor. At least Brian wouldn't have to wear the birth control glasses as he was born with perfect vision. He received the required vaccinations from the medical staff, the needle quickly inserted into his shoulder and injected. Throughout it all, Brian kept to his battle buddy's side, both of them covering each other if they missed an order.

After reception week, the gears changed and they entered the nine weeks of hell. He thought the police academy in Los Angeles was tough; that was nothing.

One of the most memorable scenes of his training was the gas chamber.

With the others, Brian stood outside of what looked like a concrete room, his gas mask in his hand.

"Put your hand over the canister and breathe in." Their drill sergeant instructed them, showing them how it was done. "Doing this will seal the mask to your face. Don't do this and I will have to tell your momma why you died because you couldn't follow orders."

Lines were formed once more, the instructors telling them to place their hands onto the shoulders of the man in front of them. Then they were led inside the waiting room. Inside was a single table, a fire extinguisher sitting on the ground beneath it. They lined up around the walls of the room.

"Face the center of the room." The drill sergeant picked up the item that was sitting on the desk. Immediately, Brian knew what it was, having seen it at the academy. It was a tear gas bomb, used primarily for crowd control. "This is CS gas, ladies. It will make you want to vomit, it will want to make you panic. You will have to show us that you can handle it." The drill sergeant pulled the canister and the gas immediately began to hiss filling the room.

"You will recite your last name and the last four digits of your social security and remove your masks. Then put your helmet back onto your head." Reaching up, Brian took a large breath of air and broke the seal. The gas hit his eyes, making them water as Brian tried not to inhale. A minute later, his lungs expanded as he took in his first breathe of the gas. The lining of his respiratory tract immediately inflamed, his body shaking with coughs as his fellow soldiers coughed as well. His battle buddy bent over a little, saliva dripping from his gaping mouth.

The drill sergeant stepped in front of him. "Recite the Creed of the US Army. Now, soldier."

Brian straightened even as his lungs burned with the effort. "I-I am an *cough* American Sol-soldier. I am a-a *cough* member of t-the U-United States Ah-Army, *cough* a-a protector of the gra-greatest nation on e-earth. Because I-I am pr-proud of *cough* of the u-uniform I wear, *cough* I will al-always act in w-ways *cough* cr-creditable to the military ser-service and th-the *cough* nation it is s-sworn to-to guard." Tears were dripping from the corners of his eyes as they burned fiercely. Brian stumbled through the next three paragraphs.

When he reached that last one, Brian bent over, spitting out a large wad of saliva onto the ground. He wiped it off as he tried to finish the Soldier's Creed. By that point, his voice was hoarse, the lining of his throat inflamed. "I-I am p-proud of *cough* m-my country a-and its flag. I-I will try t-to ma-make *cough* the p-people of this nay-nation proud of the s-service *cough* I-I represent, for I am an American Soldier." Brian finished firmly before gasping and coughing as the drill sergeant moved on to the next cadet.

What felt like hours later to Brian but was only about ten minutes, the class was herded from the room. Outside, the drill sergeant began to look over the lines. Those who had forgotten their gun, helmet, mask, or any other item was removed and ordered to join another line to go back in.

"You must at all times, know where your equipment is. You leave anything behind on the battlefield and you're giving the enemy weapons to use against you. I don't care if you leave a freaking pencil. You will not leave _any_ equipment behind. Am I understood, ladies?"

"YES, DRILL SERGEANT!" Brian was checked but he had brought everything with him. He had been tased and pepper-sprayed at the academy so the gas was nothing to him.

Ten weeks after stepping foot onto the grounds of Fort Benning, Brian stood in his dress uniform, the single chevron with a rocker stripe insignia of Private First Class stitched carefully on his shoulders. As a single unit, they were marched before the stands where their loved ones stood, cheering them on as they passed by, spit and polished for presentation.

"This ceremony marks the culmination of long and arduous training. The results of which are these superb infantry soldiers prepare to take their places in infantry around the world." The commander of the base stated to the cheers and clapping of the crowd, the rows of soldiers standing calmly before them all. "These young men, all volunteers, joined the army and the infantry in a time of war. They choose to serve their nation, knowing they may be deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan by their commander in chief. For 236 years, the American infantryman have left the comfort of his family and endured the most demanding conditions of cold and heat, of dust and mud, of desert and jungle to fight our nation's wars. Thank you for taking the time to share this great day with us."

After the ceremony, Brian watched his fellow soldiers were greeted by loved ones, parents hugging their sons, wives hugging their husbands. A couple of children ran around, waving little flags, brothers getting hugged by their siblings. Most were crying, knowing they would be sent soon to the battlefields popping up in the Middle East.

"Yo, bro." He turned around to see Rome and Tej standing there, slightly out of place among the other folk. Thankfully, they had worn outfits that were a little more formal than their usual wear. Brian's lips twisted to see Suki wearing a half-length dark green dress, her hair flowing around her neck. Tej seemed he couldn't pull his eyes off of her. "You look different, all shiny and stuff." He clasped Rome hands, bumping shoulders.

"You all legitimate now." Tej said as he did the same.

"Yeah, I am." Brian answered, kissing Suki on the cheek. "You look good."

"So, do you; a man in uniform." Suki murmured huskily before winking at him. He could feel their eyes taking in the pressed, green Army Service Uniform, his black beret with his brigade badge sitting on his head. His Expert Marksman Badge with the attached Rifle, Carbine, and Pistol components and the Distinguished Shot Badge sat below the small row of ribbons his left chest. Rome smirked as he took in the Army Service Ribbon that was the first on the row, nudging Tej to point it out.

"Something you want to tell us, bro?" Rome asked, pointing at the small multicolored ribbon.

Brian shook his head, smirking in response. "Don't ask, don't tell," He drawled, laughing as Rome looked shocked. "I'm just pulling at you, man."

"Damn it homie, you almost gave me a heart attack," Rome looked a little queasy. "You are still sure you want to do this." His friend watched him carefully with one eye. "You don't have to do this, bro. We got a garage for you. Your Skyline is waiting. Everyone's been battling for your spot as King of the Streets."

Brian straightened his back, looking at his brother in the eye. "No, man. I'm cool. I have to do this," _I have to show that I can fulfill a promise to myself._ "I got a couple of days before I have to report back."

"They're already shipping you off?"

"Actually, more training. This was just completion of basic training. The next stage is advanced individual training." Brian didn't tell them that he had signed up for Special Forces. "I can head back to Miami for a couple of days. I thought Suki would keeping those punks in check and not let just anyone race."

Suki pouted. "It's not as fun as having you around. Now that you're gone, everyone thinks they're the next big thing. Julius' been claiming that he beat you that night you jumped the bridge."

"Really? We might have to do a repeat of that." He slung an arm around Rome and Tej, leading them out to where they parked their cars. "Maybe I need to put it down that only Suki was my competition there."

Here, Brian would endure. He had been a given a second chance, a clean slate and he would be damned if he squandered it. Come hell or high water, he was going to show them all exactly what Brian O'Conner was made of.

* * *

~ _Echo Park, Los Angeles, USA: January 2012_ ~

The white, double-story house looked the same from the street, the scars from the drive-by shooting from more than ten years ago was gone. The front of the house glowed with what looked like a new coat of white paint. The furniture on the porch was well used but kept in good condition. The driveway held a stock Jetta with a deep black color scheme. Rosebushes had been planted around the garden, the roses blooming in mixtures of red and yellow. There wasn't any sign that the family lived there were a bunch of illegal street racers.

Tanner turned off the engine, wandering if he was doing the right thing. Toretto was an ex-convict, someone he normally detested, _did_ detest. There was no excuse for beating the shit out of someone so much they were left mentally impaired. Toretto had no sense, no restraint on himself, and that was dangerous when paired with his charisma and leadership.

He was also one of a few people that broke through the walls Brian had erected during his childhood. One time, Tanner had been included but no longer, finding he was struggling to connect with the emotionally repressed man who had returned from war.

Drawing in a deep breath, Tanner got out from the SUV and walked up the cement walkway to the front door. He only had to wait for a minute after ringing the doorbell to reveal the man Tanner had only seen in photos and from a distance.

Dominic Toretto exuded an air of power about him, not only of physical strength but of spiritual strength. The white muscle T-shirt accented the man's biceps, the fabric tight across the chiseled chest. A few wrinkles had been added to the man's face, some of them stress lines but also a few laugh lines as well. His head was more bald than his own.

"Can I help you?"

"You may not remember me, Toretto, but I am Captain Nick Tanner from the LAPD." Tanner noticed Toretto's hand tightening, the knuckles turning white before the muscles relaxed.

"If this is about what happened more than a decade ago, I thought the police had no evidence for a charge."

"I am not here regarding that case or rather not directly."

"My family hasn't been involved in any crimes like that."

It seemed that Toretto's mother had failed to install any sort of manners in the man before she left the Earth. "If we could talk inside, then I'll be able to tell you why I am here."

Toretto started at him for a few seconds before stepping aside. The captain stepped in, his eyes immediately searching the room but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He remembered from Brian's report that the first time he had stepped into the house the night after the first race, there had been a hand gun laying on the table in the living room. Toretto, however, didn't allow him to search the room for long before leading him to the kitchen where the captain sat at the worn but clean dinner table.

"Do you want a beer?" Yup, still no sense of rationality in the man's brain.

"Water will be fine." The glass was placed before him.

"So, Captain, what brings you here?"

Ignoring the slight sneer in the title, Tanner took a sip from the glass to gather his thoughts. He knew Toretto would not appreciate beating around the bush. That was probably the only thing they shared between them other than the fact that they both cared about Brian. "You and I both know, Toretto, that you and your family were behind the truck hijackings over ten years ago and that Tran was only the fall guy. You should be doing 10 years at a federal prison along with the other racers in your family but you were lucky the outcome came about the way it did, the circumstances helped further on our end. You were given a second chance."

Toretto's face darkened; no doubt remembering how Brian had stolen his sister's heart. That fact had hung over the proceedings and the IA investigation after. In fact, the laws surrounding that particular issue had been addressed in a couple of bills that went through the city body. Ever since then, Tanner had been forced to draw the line for current and new undercover officers. "I still don't see why you're here, captain."

"Before meeting you, Brian was one of our best officers, near the top of his class and catching the attention of many in the department." Tanner locked eyes with Toretto. "He threw all of that down the drain for you, Toretto. All he had to do was call it in and it would have been your garage that was raided instead of Tran's."

"The only things I'm hearing are empty threats, Tanner." Toretto voice rumbled darkly.

"The case stalled his career. He left the department and he ended up in the Army. He just came back a few months ago and it's evident to everyone who knew him before that he needs help." Tanner stated harshly. The beer going to Toretto's lips paused just for a fraction before hitting the table top with a loud thunk.

"I am not going to play nurse. I don't owe him shit." Toretto said but the last few words didn't carry that much conviction as if he was trying to reassure himself.

"You don't, don't you? Had it been any other officer, they wouldn't have hesitated in turning you in. They wouldn't have searched for other possibilities or been blinded by the fact you were the ringleader. That case would have given any person who broke the case a straight road to a detective's badge." Leaning across the table, Tanner punctuated each word. "Brian is the reason why your ass isn't back in Lompoc. You weren't the one to pay for your crimes. Brian did, ten years' worth in a fucking hell on the other side of the world trying to recover what was left of his reputation and honor. You were safe here with your family."

Toretto's face was red, a vein throbbing on his forehead. "I would watch what you say, Captain."

"Or what, Toretto? You're going to beat me like you did Linder?" The man's nostrils flared even wider. "I do not know what Brian saw in you, Toretto but somehow you pulled Brian in. I'm here to ask to do it again. Before Brian does something."

That last comment struck Toretto whose anger fled him. "What do you mean by that? You think O'Conner would do something that he would-" Toretto's mouth clicked shut, his disquiet showing on his face.

Tanner looked out the kitchen window overlooking the backyard, not seeing the half-barrel grill or the run down garage. 'It's hard to say but it's a possibility that Brian could snap one day and pull the trigger on himself. The LAPD has resources to help returning war veterans but it's useless if the veteran doesn't use it nor has no support group."

"Doesn't he have family?"

"No, he doesn't with his mother dead and his father estranged. He has no other family. Brian has no one to help him with the demons that haunt him."

"And you think I'll be able to help him?"

"Despite his best efforts, you got to him during the operation when he was undercover. Despite what you want to believe, Toretto, you actually saw the real Brian. He let too much of his true self to bleed into his cover until he couldn't separate himself from who he was and who he was trying to portray. That allowed his emotions to cloud his mind. I'm hoping that if you reach out again, you might be able to do it once more. I don't want to lose another officer. I refuse to lose another one." Tanner did not to see Brian's body slumped on the toilet, brain matter splattered all over the wall behind him.

Toretto stared at a point over Tanner's shoulder. "What do you want? I don't think you're doing this for free."

"I have nothing to offer you."

At that moment, the front door opened. "Dom, we're home!" A woman's voice yelled out. The next thing Tanner knew was a red and black blur running past him to launch itself at Toretto, blabbing at 100 miles per hour.

"Uncle Dom! I won the contest!" Tanner stared in shock at the small body bouncing up and down, small hands clutching at Toretto's shirt. Tanner didn't he had it in him to have a child. From the doorway, he heard the woman dump her things in the side table next to the front door, cursing creatively but with normal words.

"You did, buddy? Your mom will be so proud of you when she comes home." Toretto said, a large hand reaching out to tousle the mop of hair affectionately. "What did you win? A racecar?"

"No, I won a new book! Can we read it later? Please? The teacher said it was a good one."

"Yeah, we can but not now. I have a guest." Toretto's eyes flicked up at him.

Then a couple of things happened at once.

At the entrance to the kitchen, Tanner could see the woman stepped in, wondering why Toretto had not answered her but understanding when saw him. His mind unconsciously registered that it was Toretto's longtime girlfriend, Leticia Ortiz, the feisty Latina and another well-known racer in the underground street scene. Unlike the old pictures from the original case, gone were the combat boots and punk attire. She wore tight black jeans with a rather conservative blouse and wedges.

But most of his focus was on the boy.

The black-haired head had turned around, the bangs flopping over the bright, blue eyes of the small child. Tanner's breath hitched as he saw the child's face, eyes automatically cataloging the features on the slim face. The small body was thin but tall for his age. The round cheeks were flushed with excitement, the skin lightly tanned from being out in the sun. Tanner could see features from Toretto's sister in the child in the nose and ears but it was slight.

No, he didn't see Toretto's sister at all.

Instead, he saw Brian in the innocent face of the small boy.

* * *

_"So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed  
Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind?  
So many years have passed, who are the noble and the wise?  
Will all our sins be justified?"_

~ **Within Temptation**,  
"_Hand of Sorrow_" from '**The Heart of Everything**'

* * *

**Spyridon: Sorry for the long delay but I've been focused on other stories and RL projects. I'm currently involved in two fic fests, including one I'm modding for TFAF fandom. Also, I'm working on the two series plus this one. Released CH1 of '_Quarterback Scramble_' which is XOver between '**Varsity Blues**' and TFAF. Still working on '_In the Middle of the Night_' which is another Bria PWP but will be different from ANY story I have written before. Doesn't help that I got bit by another AU plot bunny. I really don't want to write it since it has the potential for a sequel like '_Chasing Tomorrow_'. All this is just in the TFAF fandom alone. Let's not mention the other one-shot I'm writing for the** _Covert Affairs_** Fandom. **

**Reviews are GREATLY appreciated. Updates will be posted at my LJ as usual. **


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